“You’ve never seen it? Oh my gosh.” She turns to me fully, eyes alight with excitement, and spills more words than I could speak in a day about a television show that’s been on the air for as long as Renée has been alive. She’s animated and bounces a little,giving me a tease at those cheeks that need my palms… Those cheeks I want to squeeze or spank or bite.
If she weren’t so innocent, I’d think this was intentional. She’s been buttoned-up, reserved, practically appalled and now I’ve got the cruelest not-strip-tease of my life.
Thank God for the laptop. Seriously. I’m just glad she doesn’t notice it’s wobbling.
When the episode is over, I broach a topic easier than the eggshells one I discussed with Cian. “Lorien?”
She turns her serious gaze to me, her hair whipping to settle back at her neck. “Yeah?”
“We need to figure out a car for you. I can do that while you’re at work or?—”
“What?” She cuts me off and scrunches her face. “No.”
“If you’d rather go together, that’s fine, too.”
“That’s not…” She takes a deep breath, exhaling audibly. “That’s not what I meant. I haven’t even discussed it with my insurance.”
“That’s worth doing. Today.”
She slumps in her seat, pouting. “I don’t really want to tell them.”
“You’re not disappointing them. They’re not your family or your friends. Nor do they get a vote. They’re your insurer.”
“I know. But I don’t want to.” Her petulance is cute.
Who the fuck am I? What happened to me? I can’t think this shit iscute. Ever.
“Do you want me to do it?” I ask, half asking, half baiting her.
“No. Fine. Ugh.” She reaches for her phone. When the call connects, she starts strong, but her voice gets smaller and smaller. She paces the room, rubbing her forehead. Only once, do I see it. She looks at me and makes a face. It’s the kind of thing that communicates togetherness.
It’s the kind of thing I’m sure she doesn’t mean to do.
Lorien
There are things that are easy enough to do. Things that must be done. Things I feel adult enough to handle. And there are things that make me feel small and inexperienced.
This call is one of them. I pay the insurance. I set it up. I chose the deductibles and such, but I don’t know what most of it means or how it all works. I don’t have to.
I do research. I had insurance for the never-in-my-wildest-dreams scenario of being pushed through an alley into a brick wall while escaping a scary dude. How am I supposed to explain that?
Come to think of it. I didn’t tell them about the garage, either. It was just fixed with no claim or whatever it is homeowners do when their garage doors are pried apart.
The weirdest part of the whole thing is the look of assurance on Liam’s face as I do it. It verges on pride.
He works on his laptop while I wander and answer their questions. It seems totally normal, and worse, totally natural.
By the time I hang up, I’m annoyed and deflated. I don’t know whether there was a police report made. I have no idea if my neighbor on the opposite end will file a claim against my insurance. My paid-for, dependable car is totaled.
I need a new car.
I’ve never gotten to shop for one. I’ve never had to. And somehow, I already know it won’t be fun.
“What did they say?” Liam asks, looking up from his screen.
“Deductibles, totaled, multi-line loss, blah blah blah.”
“Do you have any idea what you might be interested in? Are you open to ideas?”
